


Shade of Winter

by AmelieofK



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Completed, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, junbob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-03-13 13:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmelieofK/pseuds/AmelieofK
Summary: The first time he met Junhoe, Jiwon fell irrevocably hard. That same night saw him save Junhoe's life and Jiwon finds himself falling deeper even as he successively tries to keep Junhoe alive. Will their love be able to withstand the ever changing seasons, when Junhoe's heart was intent to live under the shade of winter, all year round?





	1. Just Like An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: A character attempts suicide multiple times in the fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter was long and its nights were longer. Jiwon finds respite in a warm, powerful voice, unaware that it would lead to him falling in love and saving a man's life.

The first time Jiwon saw him, it was along the streets of Itaewon. It was autumn, dastardly cold and he was busking in the middle of the marketplace square, dressed in a faded shirt and a long knitted cardigan the shade of burgundy which looked as if it had seen better days. Lengthy legs encased in black ripped jeans and worn Converse sneakers on his feet completed his grungy get-up.Jiwon had been out with his friends for a drink, but he had to stop the moment he sighted the lanky figure standing there in the middle of the square. Looming over a rudimentary set-up of a standing mic and a battered speaker, he had a guitar over his shoulder and the face of a Greek god. A snapback lay upturned on the speaker. Surprisingly, it was his voice that had caused Jiwon to freeze for an immeasurable period of time.

“ _When you were here before, couldn’t look you in the eye. You’re just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry. You float like a feather, in a beautiful world, I wish I was special, you’re so fucking special._ ” Starting low, soft and oft times breathy with the promise of a deep, full bodied rasp, he held everyone in the square spellbound as he strummed his guitar and started singing Radiohead’s Creep. As much as Jiwon wanted to close his eyes and drown in the magnitude of his voice, his gaze refused to be parted from that arresting visage seemingly carved from marble and mirrored with the agony of the lyrics he was projecting.

Even Jiwon's friends had ceased their excited chatter, transfixed as his voice veered into a fusion that was both melodic and rough, which he had forcefully injected into the chorus “ _But I’m a creep, I’m a willow, what the hell am I doing here. I don’t belong here._ ” His strumming got passionate as he smoothly transitioned into the second verse. “ _I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control…ohhh, I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul. I said, I want you to notice, when I’m not around! You’re so fucking special, I wish I was special._ ” He was wailing now, his voice going deeper, rougher and there was almost a collective gasp from the crowd now, as they, like Jiwon, became completely invested within the majesty of this vocal display. It was a perfect foil to the desolation brought on by the light drizzle that seem to curtain the whole place now. “ _But…but I’m a creep, I’m a willow…oh-oh, what the hell am I doing here! I don’t belong here! I-I-I don’t belong here! I don’t belong here…what the hell am I doing heeere, I don’t belong here._ ” His voice had turned whispery right after, the transition sudden, but completely mesmerising as he slipped back into that breathy, gentle undertones he had started the song with. “ _Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want. You’re so fucking special, I wish I was special…_ ”He trailed off, blending the last note with one forceful strum of the strings. 

Silence conquered the square.

It was a momentary heaviness, filled with the pathos of abject loneliness brought on by the lament of his song. Someone started clapping. Slowly, collectively everyone began joining in. Jiwon’s feet trudged through the sleet lightly. The boy had barely smiled despite the rousing performance, surrounded by a few brave admirers, who were now dropping loose notes and coins into the cap that had been on the speaker. He kept bowing and offering his thanks, but the arch of those lips barely curved into a proper smile. He was pocketing the money and putting the snapback over the silky, jet-black hair by the time Jiwon reached him. The square began to buzz with activity again, as the onlookers continued their journey across the the cold.

“Hey there, I’m Kim Jiwon. That was amazing!” Jiwon enthused. He had left his friends behind and they were now discussing whether another round of soju would be the perfect end to the night.

“Yeah, thanks.” He answered non-commitally, kneeling down to unplugged the speaker gently.

“I was wondering if you’d like to record at my studio.” Jiwon offered. “Your voice is really captivating.”

“You have a studio?” He had muttered, still not looking, standing up to unhook the wire from his acoustic guitar now and holding up a guitar case that had been folded behind the speaker.

“Look maybe we can go for coffee and perhaps talk about it?” Jiwon conjectured, trying to hold his attention now. This close, he could appreciate that profile with the distinctive bridge of his nose, the cupid’s bow of unsmiling lips, chiseled jawline stiffened and unimpressed.

“I don’t know. I’m sorta tired.” He sighed. Something in the way he spoke raised the first alarm. He sounded resigned, as if he had heard this many times before. His voice, that deep resonant tone, sounded slurry, just the slightest.

“I understand. Maybe if I give you my card?” Jiwon offered, taking his business card out from his wallet and handing it to him. He took it, barely gazing as he encased the guitar and zipped it up. “Can I give you a lift?” Jiwon added. He was not normally aggressive by nature. Again, Jiwon had the premonition that something was off.

“Nah, I’m fine.” He replied, the dismissal in the tone of his deep voice was hard to miss. He was in a hurry to get away, that was obvious. “I’ll call you.” He lied outright, picked up the speaker by its handle and then those long legs were crossing the square, not looking back. Jiwon gazed at that retreating back, concern weighing heavily upon his furrowed brows. Jiwon could feel his stomach churning in discomfort. He turned around, saw that his friends were already walking in the opposite direction and returned his glance to the object of his fascination.

He had not even given his name, Jiwon realised rather belatedly and instinctively, he started to follow, allowing his steps to fall faster in the wake of the troubled troubadour, who had caught his fancy. He texted his buddies, friends from college, telling them to go ahead without him and quickened his steps. A few turns, as he tried to keep up with the boy, led him to an unsavoury part of the neighbourhood, through a rat-infested alley, straight to a rundown hostel that looked as if it had been condemned for demolition somewhere in the nineties’.

Loud, rock music blared as he entered the grimy hallway. The place looked as if it was where the worst of humankind would settle their battered body down to die. Bobby coughed slightly against the stench; a mixture of stale smoke, urine mixed with the fainter smell of disinfectant.The man sitting behind the counter looked dazed.

“Can I help you?” He slurred, without animation, gaze deadened by whatever it was he seem addicted to.

“Yes, the man with the guitar? He went through here…”

“That’s Junhoe. He owes me two months’ rent. I’m gonna have to kick him out soon.” He muttered, obviously high.

“Yes, of course, which floor is he in?” Jiwon asked.

“Room two-three-seven, second floor. He gave me downers though, so maybe I’ll give him another week’s grace. Junhoe’s a nice guy. Great voice, but always sad, you know.” He added even though Jiwon did not even asked and definitely did not know.

“Downers?” Jiwon enquired, those alarm bells setting off once again. He began rushing towards the staircase, not looking back even though mister manager was still running off his mouth now.

‘Yeah, pills. He’s got a bunch of them, man. Junhoe’s a nice guy.” He repeated. “But always sad.” _But always sad._ The phrase somehow got stuck in his head. Over and over again Jiwon repeated it in his mind like a broken record. He walked hurriedly up the winding, Formica-lined stairs, hurtling past closed, quiet doors; two-three-one, two-three-three, two-three-five…here. Two-three-seven. The crash of glass breaking coming from behind it galvanized Jiwon into action. He knocked the door urgently, tried the doorknob but it was locked. Junhoe, Jiwon reminded himself. His name is Junhoe.

“Hey, Junhoe! Junhoe! Open the door, man!” Jiwon yelled, his fist drumming non-stop against the door. “Hey, hey, Junhoe open up!” No response. Jiwon turned, looking down the empty hallway filled with trash strewn randomly, smelling from dry paint, the walls cracked and filled with graffiti. A life like this, he thought bleakly, raking his hair back, feet turning, backed up against the wall.

In one swift move, he kicked the door down. Something shiny flew into the room as he entered, it was the chain latch. His eyes scoured the dim darkness, found the guitar and speaker by the doorway. Jiwon saw his crumpled business card by the cap, thrown together with the clothes that were strewn all over the floor. Containers of empty or unfinished food jostled for space on the coffee table along with beer cans. The place was a veritable diaspora of a man’s despondent fall into an unnamed darkness. 

Right over the edge of this chaos, that man with this life now stood, a beatific smile on his lips as he slid down to the floor, his body propped by the grimy wall. The only light on him was from the neon sign outside the building. It flashed blue and purple, washing across that wonderfully structured face which now seem as pale asan untethered moon, like lightning.

Even as he slipped towards death, Junhoe looked ethereal.

Jiwon ran to him, crushing styrofoam and skidding through clothes, kneeling beside him, eyes taking in the empty pill bottle still gripped in one hand. Broken shards of a drinking glass still trying to hold the water left seem to mock at Jiwon near the other hand.

“Junhoe?” Jiwon called him, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his coat. That gaze, those lucid pools of black, unfocused to begin with, shifted slowly to Jiwon.

“I don’t belong here…” He whispered, that smile growing wider as Jiwon began dialling for emergency services.

 


	2. I'm A Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the winter passed, Jiwon has to live with the decisions his heart was intent to make even as Junhoe keeps slipping under the terminal darkness that haunts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning : A character attempts suicide multiple times in the fic.

Three weeks. That was how long Junhoe went under.

Reading through his medical history had been just as harrowing as finding him on the floor of that dead end hostel. His full name is Koo Junhoe. He had been diagnosed with clinical depression at sixteen. No record of him ever going for therapy, not even a prescription for any sort of medication. The fact that this was his fourth attempt tore at whatever was left of Jiwon’s heart and perhaps, the clincher had been the lack of name under the requirement marked ‘ _Next of Kin_ ’. The nurses had gathered his personal belongings from the pocket of his pants before he went into the emergency room and there was not much in the ziplock bag; save for his ID, which indicated that he was twenty-two this year, a roll of mints, half of which was gone and the silver pick he had used for his guitar that night. It was his whole life in a nutshell.

Jiwon stayed there for those three weeks, arranging for a puzzled Donghyuk to come in and take over the administration at the studio for awhile.

“Ah- _hyung_ , I’m up to my neck in exams!” Donghyuk had whined over the phone. Jiwon apologized, but did not back down, which made the boy realised that he was being completely serious. “Is it family, hyung?” Donghyuk had asked, calming down immediately. Jiwon’s family was in America. If it was an emergency, he obviously had no one else but Donghyuk to handle things back here.

“Sort of, _dongsaeng_. Help me out, please. You can keep the proceeds for those three weeks. It’ll help ease your dorm finances.” Jiwon begged, something that Jiwon never did. Donghyuk agreed immediately.

Jiwon arranged for Junhoe's things to be picked up at the hostel, his outstanding rent to be paid for and generally just Jiwon not questioning what he was doing, but  doing things without question. He did not even know if Junhoe would approve if he ever woke up. At this stage, he was not even certain if Junhoe would wake up.

When Junhoe’s eyes finally fluttered open, Jiwon was sitting there by the armchair, frozen in surprise. Junhoe remained where he was, silent and unmoved, even when the doctor and nurses rushed in to attend to him. Both Jiwon and Junhoe sat by quietly watching all this activity, neither glancing nor speaking to each other even though Jiwon could sense a heaviness in his disquiet. By noon, Junhoe’s vital signs were given the all clear and a nurse informed Jiwon that the patient is encouraged to start on semi solid foods. Jiwon unwrapped the plastic from the porridge provided by the hospital and sat by him, adjusting the bed so that Junhoe could now sit up.

Those familiar dark eyes searched him and Jiwon wondered if Junhoe was trying to recall where he had seen him.

“You are Kim Jiwon. The guy with the studio.” Junhoe muttered. Well, at least his memory was intact.

“Ah-you remember?” Jiwon was pleased, but he refrained from displaying it, so he concentrated on stirring the porridge instead, which was still slightly hot.

“A dying man has no time to forget. Everything is heightened for him, because he has made that decision to stop existing.” Junhoe exhaled in resignation. Jiwon was not sure if he was angry or disappointed, so he kept stirring the porridge. “I hope you are not planning to feed me that, because I am perfectly capable of doing it myself." Junhoe added wryly.

“Of course, you are.” Jiwon answered, glancing at him. He still looked pale and because he had been in a drug-induced coma, he had lost quite a bit of weight, his cheeks gaunt from the lack of food. Jiwon stood up, wheeling the hospital desk towards Junhoe. He ate, scooping the porridge almost reluctantly, as if he had already zoned out just hours after returning to the very present. “How long have you been on your own?” Jiwon had asked, when the silence between them had become unbearable; empty and devoid of meaning. Jiwon stood staring out the window, not wanting to pry but realising that Junhoe was not going to open up to him, not unless it was at his own terms. The porridge had been forgotten after Junhoe had half of it.

“Since I came out of my mother’s womb.” Came the wry reply. Definitely at his own terms, Jiwon thought, his mouth tightened grimly, arms folded to his chest.

“Well, today’s the last day you’ll be alone.” Jiwon declared, not turning from where he was standing.

“Says who?” Junhoe challenged.

“Says me.” Jiwon answered resolutely.

“I did not ask you to save me.” Junhoe countered, as if all he did was learning to ride a bike on his own without supervision.

“I did not want to save you either!” Jiwon turned suddenly, the anger in his voice and face silencing Junhoe, who now surrendered defeat by picking on the knitted blanket that covered his feet. “There was no choice for me, you understand? You left me with none!” Jiwon added passionately. The silence this time was deafening, heavy and filled with so many unspoken thoughts, but it was cut short as a nurse walked in to take Junhoe’s temperature and blood pressure. Within the span that this silence was broken, it had turned from something that was insignificant to becoming a strangely meaningful moment.

Between those two extremes, they both could feel a fundamental shift that would forever change their lives. In that brief period, they had turned from being strangers to something else they could not quite put a name to.

Not yet. Not right now.

Jiwon had turned back to the window as the nurse went about her duty. His eyes caught sight of the willows that were growing wild and untamed by the riverbanks beside the hospital building. The onslaught of winter breeze was reaming through the air outside, tugging and pulling the weed mercilessly. The willows bend obediently, never struggling against the wind even as its roots remained steadfast and true to its intended purpose. Strong, impossible to break, despite its fragile state and Jiwon shed the first of many tears that were to come, the moment he had made a conscious decision to allow Junhoe into his life.

 


	3. I Want You To Notice, When I'm Not Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiwon's hardest winter begins as he brings Junhoe into his life. Despite that, their love grows like a barren tree thriving on Junhoe's pain and Jiwon's struggles to keep him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning : A character attempts suicide multiple times in the fic.

That winter was the most difficult one Jiwon had ever faced in his adult life.

He had always been without his family, and that had been tough on him since college, but he had adapted, had learnt to survive on his own. His only solace had been Donghyuk’s friendship. They had run the college radio a few years back and had remained friends even after Jiwon had left school. Jiwon never considered Donghyuk anything more than a brother and the younger orphan was thankful for the camaraderie and guidance Jiwon had provided him even as he shifted out of the apartment they shared into the dorm and jumped headlong into varsity studies. Jiwon allowed him to work part-time at the studio during holiday breaks or when he needed the money and they always spent Christmas or special occasions together.

The first week Junhoe was in the apartment, he ate very little, sat on the sofa strumming his guitar almost every hour and refused to sleep in the room Jiwon had prepared for him. Jiwon acknowledged that Junhoe was doing everything he can to get Jiwon to kick him out. The mess was a constant pain. Jiwon worked late at the studios, mixing songs for the budding artistes who had approached him for help or setting up to record demos for them. Coming home to a house filled with dirty dishes piling in the sink or unwashed clothes all over the floor definitely did nothing for his temperament. His patience, not very substantial to begin with, was worn thin as each day passed. Junhoe on his couch, sometimes never showering for days was like a husk that was empty and had no purpose. His neighbours complained of the singing. Granted he had a wonderful voice, but people worked and needed rest, a predicament not made easier by the incessant strumming on his guitar. Friday night had rolled over with torturous slowness and Jiwon had gotten home early, cleaned up the mess, took a shower and dressed himself up nicely.

“Junhoe.“ Jiwon intoned, standing by the doorway of his room. “Go and take a shower. We are going out.” Junhoe did not even move a muscle. He had turned the couch so it faced the window and was just sitting there silently, guitar on his lap. “Junhoe.” Jiwon called out louder. Junhoe seem to startle himself out of his stupor, his dark eyes, ever bleak and murky gazing through Jiwon. “Come on, we are going out for _tteokbokki_.” Jiwon told him.

“ _Tteokbokki_ sounds nice.” He countered, putting aside the guitar and standing up. “ _Hyung_ …” Junhoe had barely spoke to him since he drove him back from the hospital. Their daily interactions had been sized down to questions from Jiwon and one-word answers or grunts from Junhoe. The fact that he was acknowledging Jiwon for the first time sparked something in the other man’s heart.

“Junhoe?” Jiwon called him, walking out of the room and circling the couch to where Junhoe had stood, rooted to the spot. He had lost way too much weight by then. A stubble forming sparsely on his jaw. It was alarming to witness just how easy those eyes were filled with tears and unknown agony.

“I don’t think…I’m up for going out.” He whispered hoarsely and Jiwon realised that he was shaking with fear. Jiwon went closer and arms, long and desperate reached for him. “I…I don’t think I can…I’m sorry.” He trembled in Jiwon’s embrace and Jiwon realised just how fragile he was. Like fine china, Jiwon handled him gently and with ardent care.

“It’s okay, Junhoe. We can always order in.” Jiwon assured him, caressing the slightly bony back tenderly. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and shaved. Even if we are not going out, you have to look presentable. Do it for me.” Jiwon urged, leading him slowly from the couch to the bathroom, hoping against hope that Junhoe would not change his mind. Jiwon sat him at the edge of the tub, filling it with warm water as Junhoe sat dejectedly, tears listing from his lashes down cheeks so gaunt, they seem to pool themselves before pouring like rivulets against a craggy, stony structure. Jiwon got the manual Gilette from the sink and saw how Junhoe’s eyes glinted at the razor’s shine. Junhoe brought his hand up, fixated by the sharp steel encased in the contraption, but Jiwon stopped him, “I’ll do it for you, Junhoe.” Jiwon rasped, his fingers encircling the wrist with the scars of Junhoe’s unsuccessful, past attempts, tenderly.

“Will you hurt me, _hyung_?” Junhoe asked and Jiwon almost sobbed at how hopeful he sounded. Jiwon steeled himself.

“No. I’d never hurt you. Even if you asked me to.” Jiwon admitted, taking the foam brush and coating the lower half of Junhoe’s face with the cream. He made a mental note to discard the razor later. And maybe all the knives in the house too.

He shaved Junhoe’s chin with care, finding time to admire Junhoe’s graceful neck as he arched his head up so willingly, fully trusting Jiwon not to cut him at all. He undressed Junhoe, trying to hold back tears at sight of him; the droop of his shoulders, the emaciated frame, poking ribs and hipbones, lowering him down the tub and washing him with a gentleness even his own mother had not shown him when he was a baby. Junhoe rested his head against the towel Jiwon had lined the tub with, tears tracking down his clear, porcelain face. Never had Jiwon felt so passionately about keeping anyone alive, in his life.

Later, when the food came, Jiwon asked Junhoe to unpack it as he poured drinks for them in the kitchen. Jiwon smiled, watching as Junhoe ate with gusto. With his hair still wet and slicked back, he looked more human than the shell he had been, an hour ago. Everything about him fascinated Jiwon; the bridge of his nose, his perfectly shaped lips as he flashed little smiles that mirrored happiness as Jiwon told him anecdotes of the weird characters he encountered since he opened the studio, enamoured Jiwon. 

His laugh, though. Jiwon became addicted to the sound; it was rich, deep and completely joyful. Jiwon wanted to hear more of it and so he continued talking, more than he ever did before. Donghyuk would have been surprised to know just how much Jiwon had talked that night.

“You have to pay me for the food.” Jiwon teased as he cleared the repast, chucking the empty containers into the trash and rinsing the cups that had been filled with cola. Junhoe, who had moved to the couch, turned back in surprise and solemnly stated,

“I don’t have that much with me, _hyung_.” He was starting to sound morose. Jiwon wiped his hands with the table cloth and promptly joined him on the couch, settling himself heavily beside Junhoe and teasingly smiled. A finger had come up naturally to wipe the leftover _tteokbokki_ sauce still smeared at the edge of Junhoe's supple lips. 

“I don’t accept cash. I only accept your voice.” Jiwon surmised, gazing at Junhoe longer than he had intended to. He really looked so much better after the meal. Somewhat more energetic and his cheeks slightly filled in. Junhoe's smile returned with that spontaneous gesture from Jiwon, shy this time around though, and he grabbed his guitar, ready to make payment. He strummed carelessly, bending his ear to the fret to tune it. Jiwon thought Junhoe looked absolutely stunning when he was focused on something. His dark eyes shimmered with excitement as he strummed to make sure he had tuned it correctly.

“Any special requests?” Junhoe asked, a smile so brilliant appearing on his lips that Jiwon was sure it would be the benchmark of all other smiles he wanted to witness from him in future.

“You can sing me anything, I’m here for it. Always.” Jiwon promised, trying to match that wondrous smile which was all lips, teeth and gums. Junhoe nodded, letting his fingers run over the strings, with no restraint, searching for the right key.

“ _Maware ma-ware, merry go round, mou keshite tomara-nai you-ni_.” Junhoe started off with a breathy rasp and it was miraculous how his eyes was suddenly filled with a light, fluffy passion Jiwon had never seen before, but would have loved to witness more often as the winter passed. “ _Ugoki daa-shita melo-dy_.” Jiwon closed his eyes, allowing that mellifluous voice to take hold of his heart and bring him into another world. Junhoe’s grasp of the Japanese language was surprisingly fluent and his intonation, flawless. “ _La la la la la, la la love song. Wanna make you love, wanna make you a love song. Wanna make you love, wanna make you a love song_.” Junhoe’s voice resonated within the apartment in controlled pitches that alternated between highs and lows, even falling smoothly into an impressive falsetto oft-times, which caught Jiwon by surprise. “ _Dosha buri no gogo wo matte, machi ni tobi dosou, kokoro ni furu ame ni, kasa wo kureta kimi-to._ ” Junhoe serenaded, fingers running over the strings, coaxing the melody that complemented the roughness of his voice. “ _Meguria-eta kiseki ga, namida no iro wo kaeta! Whoow!_ ” Just watching him, brows hitched upwards as he purposefully pushed his voice higher was pleasurable enough, but having that voice fold over his soul brought Jiwon to another level altogether. “ _Iki ga to-maru kurai-no, amai kuchizuke wo shiyou yo. Hito koto mo-iranai sa, tobikiri no ima-wo._ ” He continued, unstoppable as his fingers strum almost playfully over the strings. “ _Yuuki wo kureta kimi ni, teru teru baai janaie ka-ra, kotoba yo-ri mo honki-na…la la la la, la la love song!_ ” His fingers gathered the strings into a rousing crescendo before stopping and his gaze, now illuminated with excitement, caught sight of Jiwon, whose eyes had shut close in some self-imposed ecstasy and those thin, normally grim lips, curving into the most wondrous smile.

In the interminable silence that followed his breathtaking performance, Junhoe gained a profound admiration of Jiwon. His fingers, callused, but soft all the same, reached out; caressing the sharpness of one cheekbone and tracing it downward all the way to the set of that chiselled jaw, in fascination. Jiwon’s eyes snapped open, surprised by this sudden, unmitigated caress. His hand flew up to catch Junhoe’s hand, but somehow their fingers ended up tangled, eyes latching softly to each other in a meaningful gaze that neither wanted to turn away from.

“Ah, Junhoe.” Jiwon whispered in the darkened silence, lighted only by the soft glow of the standing lamp near the couch, “I don’t think I can ever stop loving you now.” He confessed, taking the guitar by the neck and placing it aside.

“You don’t want to, Jiwon. You might live to regret it.” Junhoe declared weakly, lowering his gaze with a sense of helplessness Jiwon did not recognise, “I’m…impossible to love.” He added hesitantly, in despair. Jiwon had clasped Junhoe’s hands in his, but he clenched one hand into a fist now, using it to gently prop Junhoe’s chin up so that his gaze, those dark pair of stormy eyes found the orbs of his calm, reassuring gaze once more without looking away.

“I’m very much aware of this, but it’s quite impossible for me to give you up either.” Jiwon whispered with tenacity, moving his head closer to Junhoe until their lips met. Jiwon was resolute in his love for Junhoe and he made for a gentle and thoughtful lover, for which Junhoe was grateful for. Junhoe slept in Jiwon’s warm embrace that night and the nights thereafter. It established the structure of their relationship, which should never have begun in the first place, but had somehow defied its odds to exist due to their respective desires. 

Junhoe, for the safety of Jiwon’s arms, which always prevented him from slipping over the precipice of his mysterious and unexplained sorrow.

Jiwon, gripping tightly and with stubborn desperation, always with the unspoken fear of waking up to an everyday without Junhoe’s presence in his life. 

When Junhoe did not answer his phone calls while he was at the studio two weeks later, Jiwon had rushed home just in time to find Junhoe completely immersed in the bathtub. Jiwon had pulled him out, pumped Junhoe’s chest and administered breath into his lungs like a madman for almost five minutes, which seemed more like an eternity, before Junhoe sputtered back to life, hands gripping onto Jiwon’s arms for dear life. Jiwon decided it was best to bring Junhoe to the studio with him, occupying Junhoe with some menial duties like tuning guitars and even getting him to record some covers. Junhoe started eating well, putting on a little bit of weight enough to fill out his cheeks and body, so that he no longer looked gaunt.

There was that one day, perhaps a month after the bathtub incident, when Donghyuk came to visit them at the studios, intending to have dinner with them.

Donghyuk had been wary of Junhoe at first. He realised later on that his _hyung_ was completely smitten by this tall, lanky stranger with the deep voice and eyes that did not fully gaze into his, and had kept his tongue in check. He was impressed by Junhoe’s talent though and found that despite the tinge of mystery in the darkness of his eyes, Junhoe spoke softly and was always attentive to his _hyung_.

Jiwon had grabbed his coat, asking Donghyuk to get Junhoe as he went around to check and make sure all the equipments were put away properly. He was in the second studio when Donghyuk’s urgent shouts came from the restroom at the end of the corridor.

“ _Hyung_! Jiwon- _hyung_! Oh fuck!” Donghyuk was screaming and Jiwon came hurtling down the hall, stomach twisting in knots once again. He flew past the restroom door and saw that Donghyuk had knelt by Junhoe, who was lying on the bathroom floor. He had broken the mirror above the sink, cutting both his wrists using a piece of the broken glass. Jiwon pushed Donghyuk aside, barking for him to call for the ambulance as he unwrapped the scarf around his neck and began twining them tightly against both cuts to prevent further loss of blood. Blood, which was already pooling onto the floor with alarming rate.

“Junhoe…” Jiwon called him. 

“It’s dark, Jiwon. It’s dark everywhere…in my head…I hate it.” Junhoe was crying under his breath over and over, his tears flowing like an endless tide, unstoppable in the wake of a terminal grief. While Donghyuk thought the blood must be the worst of it, it was Junhoe’s tears that did it for Jiwon. How sorry he sounded and how helpless he was against this darkness that plagued him to no end.

“I know, Junhoe-ya. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” Jiwon whispered over and over again, cradling Junhoe’s head in his lap, holding tightly to the scarf, not allowing any more of that blood to ebb out of his lover’s body. The ride in the ambulance, the chill of the night as snow began falling down the city in a gauze-like curtain, everything was a nightmare disguised in a fairy-like dreamscape. He sat outside the operating room beside Donghyuk, who had arrived awhile ago, bearing food, drinks and a face still worn with shock and disbelief.

Jiwon did not feel like eating at all.  

“Hyung, maybe you should go wash your hands.” Donghyuk had said, eyeing Jiwon’s hands, distaste marking his handsome face, as he placed the food on the table. Jiwon saw that Junhoe’s blood had turned his palms red. Silently, he trudged to the nearest restroom, with the intention of washing his hands. He was halfway through in the act of rinsing the soap off when he crumbled to the floor in tears, his hands clear of the blood, but its copper scent still overpowering. It was almost a blessing that Donghyuk barged in moments later to find him and pull him up. Donghyuk was visibly shaken to see Jiwon crying so profusely. He had never seen his _hyung_ so dejected, not even during their worst days in college.

“I don’t want to lose him, Donghyuk. I don’t think my heart can take it.” Jiwon sobbed into Donghyuk’s shoulder, arms clinging tightly as if he would drown in a wave of tears if he let go. Donghyuk just held him, very much aware that nothing he said at that moment would provide anything, not even comfort. He could only offer his embrace and even that, he knew, was not enough.

Junhoe defied death for the sixth time.


	4. Float Like A Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiwon celebrates his third winter with Junhoe in a climate of grief and happiness. Will Junhoe's endless battle with darkness finally claim him? Or will the presence of an angel save the impossible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning : (Minor) Character Death

Jiwon placed flowers onto the patch of grass by his side, gently. A breeze was picking up, causing the trees to murmur strangely. The cold seeped through his skin, filtering through his flesh straight to the bones.

Winter is coming. Sooner than he had expected. The bouquet he had brought with him were red roses dotted with sprays of baby’s breath. He picked it up from off the ground and breathed in deeply, loving the heady scent the petals were giving off and loving the velvet feel of its texture against his nose. He hoped Junhoe would love it. The girl at the flower shop had obviously been envious of whoever was going to receive the bouquet. Her eyes wandered onto Jiwon’s figure from the top to the bottom in appreciation.

“Is it for your wife?” She had asked, snipping off the ends of the roses and trimming the thorns so it would not be too sharp to the fingers. She sifted through the baby’s breath which looked like minutiae puffs of cotton balls. Jiwon looked up in surprised at this sudden and unexpected question.

“Pardon?” He replied, caught off guard.

“Is this for your wife…or girlfriend?” She asked, the sparkle in her eyes as she took in that eye smile, the way his cheeks stretched back when those lips curve was definitely a fascinating thing to witness.

“Someone really special.” Jiwon answered, not quite teasing and he took a few steps back, pretending to peruse the rack of greeting cards beside the counter. The girl rolled her eyes slightly, very much aware that he was not divulging anything and that she had probably overstepped herself. She began encircling the next row of roses, tying the layers tighter into a compact circle before adding another layer of roses and baby’s breath in between. He had specifically asked for 30 roses. To mark these three long years.

“Tell her she’s lucky!” The florist had hollered as he took the bouquet and left the shop.

 _Him_. _He made me lucky_. Jiwon corrected her silently, almost without thought, glancing at his watch, fearing that he would really be late. He almost was, even though the sun had barely shone throughout the day or had even begun its descent down beyond the horizon to welcome the night. He closed his eyes, breathing in the roses again.

Donghyuk had asked him one night. It was the tenth? Or perhaps, even twelfth attempt Junhoe had made in that first year? Jiwon could barely recall. It was just another trip to the emergency room. Jiwon pacing in front of the ward and Donghyuk running into the waiting room, face pale, looking tired. He felt bad for Donghyuk, though. It must be so hard to remain friends with someone in a relationship with a suicidal individual. It could get mentally draining after awhile.

“How long are you going to do this, _hyung_?” Donghyuk had asked as Jiwon got him a cup of water from the dispenser. Jiwon looked at him nonplussed, not understanding at all what he meant by that question. “You, waiting for the doctor to come out here to tell you whether or not he will make it. How long are you willing to do this?” Donghyuk asked, anger sweeping across his winsome face. He had raised his voice slightly. Jiwon bit his lips. It had become so normal that Jiwon had stopped asking himself whether or not Junhoe would end up lifeless. It had gotten to the point that it probably would not register to him at all if the doctor had come out and told him there was nothing he could do. That was how much Jiwon had been accustomed to it by then. He fixed his gaze on Donghyuk, flashing a look filled with steely determination.

“For as long as it would take me.” Jiwon answered him with conviction. He did not see Donghyuk that much thereafter. Whenever Jiwon called, he was always busy with lectures or assignments, but Jiwon had been around him long enough to know when he lied. Jiwon did not really take it to heart either although he treasured Donghyuk’s friendship. He had committed himself to loving Junhoe and by virtue of that, automatically made himself the boy’s saviour.

Another breeze flitted by. It was stronger this time, strong enough to cause a sparrow that was flying by to lose its bearing, just the slightest. A tiny feather; fluffy, soft, gently settled atop the bouquet. It was white speckled with tinges of brown. Jiwon blew on it and it swirled into the wind.

“Hey.” Junhoe’s voice, treacly and thick, poured sweetly into his ear. “Sorry I’m late.” A rustle of leaves and long legs stretched beside him. "Are those for him?” He asked expectantly. Jiwon passed it to him. A smile dedicated to turning his eyes into crescents of pleasure, just like his lips, appeared and he passed the bouquet to Junhoe, who immediately brought it up to his nose to inhale the invigorating scent deeply.

“Happy anniversary.” Jiwon whispered, glancing at and constantly amazed by the sight of Junhoe’s effortless beauty.

“How long has it been?” Junhoe asked, still taken by the bouquet in his hands. The fragrance was definitely exquisite and he brought it closer to admire the way it had been put together.

“Three years.” Jiwon stated, hesitant to tear his eyes away from the happiness practically jumping out from Junhoe’s face. The way his gaze was transfixed to the bouquet made him feel as if he was looking at some exquisite artwork. With the reddened skies now fading slowly into a velvet blue, Jiwon wished he could truly protect Junhoe as one would a national treasure. “You brought your guitar along? How was the session today?” Jiwon asked.

“It was interesting.” Junhoe shared. “I sang some of the newer songs and some of them were clapping along. A little girl asked me to marry her.” Junhoe shared, very much amused.

It was hard to keep Junhoe distracted from wanting to end his life.

Jiwon struggled through the first year, until he became a common fixture at the corridors of the emergency ward. Even the nurses and doctors knew him by name. Junhoe tried counselling and for more than six months, that worked. Then Jiwon walked in just in time as he kicked over the chair he had been standing on as the rope snagged, Jiwon had held him up for almost half an hour, not letting go despite Junhoe’s struggle to kick him away, crying and begging to be released. When Jiwon finally managed to get him to come down, his arms had ache all night. Still he had slept that night holding Junhoe tightly in his arms, unwilling to let go.

“Did you say yes?” Jiwon asked. Junhoe’s eyes, flitted up from the bouquet where he was currently burying his face in.

“I was tempted.” Junhoe teased right back.

 

~~~~~

 

 

It had been almost a year and a half since Junhoe volunteered at the paediatric unit of the hospital. It was the night after he tried hanging himself. He had woken up disoriented and the first thing he saw was the back of a stranger from the other bed, his silhouette glowing against the reflection from the moon. Kim Jinhwan. That had been his name. When Junhoe asked him what he was in there for, he had answered coolly that he was there to die.

“Why are you here?” He asked, without turning back. Junhoe did not answer. “Was that your boyfriend, just now, who was beside you?” Jiwon had left at Junhoe’s insistence. No point of him staying. “I also saw that they tied your hands to the bed, so I’m assuming you are prone to self-injury?” He added. He still had not turned and Junhoe remained silent. The curtain had been closed when they wheeled Junhoe in. He had flitted in and out of consciousness due to the drugs they had given to sedate him, so he was not even sure where he was. Jiwon looked tired and as always Junhoe felt bad waking up to that face, morose and sullen. He felt as if his illness had somehow infected Jiwon and now everyone was afflicted with darkness. He was not surprised not to see Donghyuk anymore either. He did not even dared to venture why.

“What are you dying from?” Junhoe finally had the courage to ask.

“Hodgkin’s Disease.” He replied. He turned. In the dimness, Junhoe could see how pale he was. The beanie he wore barely hid the limp black hair growing sparsely at the sides. Junhoe had not realised he stared until Jinhwan said, “I’m sorry for the way I look. It was the chemo and loss of appetite.” Junhoe shook his head wordlessly. “I’ve had it since my teens. It was in remission but early this year, it returned with a vengeance.”

“I…I’m sorry.” Junhoe managed. He had warm eyes despite the redness underneath his eyes and his smile was especially kind.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve lived with it for most of my adult life. Blame the fates.” He joked. Junhoe grimaced. “For someone so intent on dying, it’s quite amazing that you don’t feel comfortable talking about death.” Jinhwan observed.

“It’s not something I like to talk about.” Junhoe quipped sullenly.

“Well, if you are planning on leaving this world, it’s best you talk to the ones you love about it. LIke that boyfriend of yours. He looks like he’s not willing to let you go so easily.” Jinhwan stated.

When Jiwon came to visit in the morning, he was surprised to find that Junhoe was not on his bed. He had asked the nurse where Junhoe was and she said that he was in the paediatric ward. Jiwon went downstairs to where the paediatric ward was and was greeted by the sight of Junhoe strumming his guitar to a very laidback and poppy version of Baby Shark, surrounded by a group of young audience spellbound by his voice and his guitar. The smile on his face was priceless. It was wide; a framework of pristine, even rows of ivory teeth and pink, healthy gums and both his eyes sparkled with an incandescent joy Jiwon had only seen snippets of whenever he sang.

Someone in the dusky blue hospital garb was leaning against the doorframe. It took Jiwon awhile to realise that this someone was gazing at him. He was small and slight, but there was a knowing smile on his lips that bespoke of wisdom beyond years.

“You must be Jiwon, the relentless boyfriend. I am Kim Jinhwan, Junhoe’s ward companion.” He introduced himself.

“Did you…um, bring him here?” Jiwon asked, trying to focus on Jinhwan, but finding it hard to tear his eyes away from Junhoe, who was now strumming to a very sweet lullaby to the kids who were still enamoured by him. Jiwon knew exactly how they feel.

“I did. I knew he’d be a hit with them.” Jinhwan declared proudly. Jiwon nodded in approval. “It must be pretty tough, isn’t it? To love someone who has no desire to stay in this world.” Jinhwan added, his voice soft and filled with an understanding that almost choked Jiwon.

“It’s the darkness. He speaks of it.” Jiwon did not even know why he was sharing this without much thought. Perhaps the past year had taken a toll on him. Junhoe’s darkness had somehow taken a hold of him and had begun pouring itself into his psyche.

“It must be hard for you.” Jinhwan intoned softly. Unknowingly, a tear had tracked down one cheek. It was the hardest. Jiwon had spent most nights without much rest for fear that he would wake up without Junhoe by his side. Forever. He cannot imagine that kind of existence. “Give him time. He will learn to appreciate what life has to give him and he will gradually learn that that he could control the darkness. I will make sure of it.” The stranger added reassuringly. Jiwon gazed at him through the veil of tears brimming in his eyes in wonder.

“How? It’s a constant pain for him, it haunts him every day and night. It’s relentless.” Jiwon whispered in frustration.

“And so are you.” Jinhwan stated with certainty. Jiwon wiped his tears quickly, suddenly aware that he barely knew the young man beside him and yet his words offered such comfort he never even knew he needed. He gazed at the young man a little more closely. He was pale and Jiwon realised that he looked rather sickly, emaciated even. His eyes were soft and warm, though, reading Jiwon’s face carefully, his bluish lips curved into a comforting smile. “Death holds a positive certainty for someone like me, actually.” Jinhwan shared in a conspiratorial whisper. Jiwon gazed at him in puzzlement. “The chemo sucks. All it does is drain my energy and make me puke. I was relieved when they said they’ve done all they can.”

“I’m-“ Jiwon began only to have one small hand come up to stop him from going any further.

“Please, I have heard enough apologies about my predicament more than I can take. Fact is, I will die with or without it. I can live without.” Jinhwan professed.

“But can you at least accept a friend?” Jiwon whispered right back, lips curving into a smile. Jinhwan nodded with candid approval. 

 

~~~~~

 

“It’s time.” Junhoe’s voice broke the silent reverie that the evening had brought. They both stood up brushing the grass from the seat of their pants, held hands and started walking down the stone path which led to Jinhwan’s tombstone.

A year and a half ago, right after Jinhwan passed on, Junhoe continued his therapy. It was hard. He had come to accept that the darkness would never leave him. That it would always be there and it would continuously manifest itself in feelings of despair every now and then. When that happened, he would tell Jiwon and Jiwon would make sure that he would be there for Junhoe on that particular day or night, just so he did not make any attempt to hurt himself once more. He started volunteering in different hospitals, helping out in paediatric wards, singing and performing for the children or for terminally ill patients who needed cheering up. It eased his mind and sometimes held back the darkness that used to push him to the brink.

The speckled granite tombstone shone in the semi-darkness as Junhoe placed the bouquet at the bottom of its structure. Jiwon kept himself busy clearing the sides where twigs and sprays of dried grass had settled, blown frivolously by the winds. Junhoe was sniffling and not against the cold. Jiwon stood up and held him tightly by his side.

“You think he’s in heaven?” Junhoe asked, gloved hands coming up to wipe away the tears that had come just as naturally as he breathed.

“Looking down on us everyday.” Jiwon surmised. “Come on, let’s go, it’s getting cold. You must be hungry.” Jiwon urged, holding one hand tightly, rubbing his fingers against the leather material fastidiously.

“Are we having soju?” Junhoe asked, turning away reluctantly from the grave.

“Samgyupsal and soju? How does that sound?” Jiwon teased. Junhoe smiled, putting an arm around the shoulders that had always been there, to hold his head, his tears and his darkness.

“Sounds like a wonderful start to a third year anniversary.” He answered, as another breeze picked up across the cemetery, almost as if to murmur its farewell.

 


End file.
